Uncovered
by MadameLovely
Summary: Cosette had fallen too comfortably into the lifestyle of a wife and mother. But after her daughter's thirteenth birthday, bits and pieces from her past start to come to light. She must start depending more on her squad and the new ADA: but in doing so also reveals the question- just WHO can be trusted? And with these truths, will she be able to keep her family together?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I know writing in 1st person with some of these stories makes them less appealing - _however_ , it's the only way I am familiar. And before anyone asks - yes this is a revamp of a previous story. It wasn't going in the direction I had anticipated, and I grew to dislike it. Lastly: I will not quote the episodes verbatim. Ain't nobody got time for that. Without further adieu -

 _I stared at the end of the hospital as the detective continued to ask me questions. I didn't hear anything she was saying, however. What was her name? I tilted my head, trying to focus back on the person before me and her words - nothing was processing, unfortunately._

 _At least, not until she mentioned my baby._

 _ **Baby. My baby.**_ _I never thought in a million years I would ever become a mother. And at sixteen? It made me even more nauseous. But - that was why I was here. To get away from ... the_ _ **old**_ _me. To build myself anew for myself as well as my unborn child._

 _I could handle anything, so long as my child was in my life._

 _But - why was the woman before me panicking? Why was she pulling my blankets back - what was that red liquid all over the bed?_

 _ **What's wrong with my baby?**_

I sat up in a cold sweat, _shaking_ , bile forming in my throat. I haven't run so quickly since technical school, when I played on ASA College's (unofficial) baseball team. Wretching into the toilet, I would rest my forehead on the cool toilet lid, closing my eyes.

Every year, around my daughter's, Seraphina, birthday, I had this _terrible_ recollection of the events that had led me to ... what I like to describe as my _rebirth_.

Escape sounded _too negative_. And no one knew how to respond when you bring up something like _that_ in such a manner, so they tended to leave you alone.

 _Well, since I'm up_... I would push myself off the ground and clean myself, taking a quick shower and donning something light - a blue blouse, khaki pants, black dress shoes (that had a little wear and tear; maybe it was time to get some new ones?)

I would put my long, red hair into a bun, as I always did, and strolled into the kitchen next, beginning my daily routine of making my kids breakfast.

Seraphina Elise was turning thirteen this year; it was strange that only thirteen years ago I was just some sixteen year old with no direction except (technically) up. But I wouldn't trade those thirteen years for anything. Then, after meeting my closest friend and (recent) husband of five years, Joseph while getting through school and working in Macy's together, Ezekial James came into our lives. But - not by me.

Joseph had been briefly involved with another woman right before we had met (and to say that our engagement was short would be _quite_ the understatement). They had a child together, but she openly admitted to not having interest in her baby - right after having him, and right after Joe and I first started getting acquainted. So - she contacted Joe.

And to speed along the adoption process, we decided shortly after meeting one another that it would be best if we were _married_. We were already living together, anyway, mostly for convenience, since cost of living _sucked_.

Our whole family dynamic was screwed up, and would take ... too long to explain.

But here I was, making breakfast for the only family I had ever known.

"You're up, Cossie," stated Joe, using that _wretched_ nickname of my actual name, Cosette, pulling me out of my reverie. I jumped at the sound of his voice and glanced up, seeing him before me on the other side of the island within our kitchen. He had just come home from a run, his dark skin glistening with sweat, and I supposed I had not heard him walking through the door.

"Ah - yes." I smiled sheepishly, chagrin filling me at my own foolishness. "I ... woke up for a little while and wasn't able to get back to sleep. So ..." As I proceeded to pour him a cup of fresh coffee and hand it to him, _no cream, no sugar_.

Just _how_ did people drink it like that?

He wiped the top of his buzzed head and hands with an old dish towel before reaching for the cup, nodding in gratitude. "Did you want to take the kids to school today? I know that you said you had to be at the station early."

"I can do it - I don't see them a whole lot these days, anyway."

It was true. Olivia had caught quite the case - one of celebrity proportions - so we were working earlier and staying later than normal. But that was fine; it was the job I'd chosen for myself, after all.

I had been a Criminal Justice major (only graduating with my associate's, but it was better than nothing), mostly going in to understand my rights as a single parent - and coming out with an apsiration for a career. I had started working in the courthouse, mostly doing the knitty-gritty dirty work as a regular associate before bumping up just after I got my degree. Unfortunately, that promotion didn't last long, as I'd signed up to join the police academy _in the middle_ of my going to school.

And finally being accepted.

After the rigorous training, after jumping through several hoops, I'd gotten through the Academy and started on a smaller precinct. I mostly helped with domestic violence cases, and did that for a couple of years before requesting for a transfer closer to Seraphina's school and my second job at Macy's. This was also around the time that I'd met Joe.

My life pretty much moved in fast-forward, moving up in the ranks - mostly due to my dependability and ability to relate to the victims - right up to the title _detective_.

I was happy, of course ... but around the time I'd started, _a lot_ of changes were going on there, as well.

 _Story of my life, it seemed_.

And a story for another day.

First my four year old son came running in, his dark gold hair bouncing in tight curls as he first tackled his father's waist, then came crashing toward me. I picked him up in my left arm with ease, _clearly_ used to multi-tasking as I finished up buttering up everyone's toast, and scooping up eggs from the large skillet onto the everyone's designated plates.

Also one annoying quality in a general household and mothering those particular people for too long - knowing their mannerisms _too well_.

"Want salt and pepper?" I asked Zeke, already handing the small shakers to Joe for him to season up his own meal. The young boy shook his head, and I would narrow my eyes a bit in response. "I didn't _hear_ that."

"No thanks," he would mutter, wiggling to indicate he now wanted _down_ from my hold, grabbing his plastic Dora-quad plate and taking it to _his_ side of the dining table.

The morning pretty much went on as expected. Getting the kids ready, fighting with my daughter about wearing her school uniform more appropriate - _"I_ _ **know**_ _how long it's_ _ **supposed**_ _to be, Seraphina. Pull your skirt down!"_ \- and eventually getting to work with twenty minutes to spare.

"You're late, Jackson" said Captain Harris, grimacing at me.

"Pardon?" I huffed, placing my light jacket over my chair; I wasn't even sure why I brought the thing. It was too warm for it, anyway. "I'm actually _early_."

The taller man would shrug, gesturing for me to head into his office. I would follow dutifully, walking in to see that the others were already waiting, talking.

"About time. Enjoy your beauty sleep?" jibed Odafin "Fin" Tutoala. When I'd first started at the Special Victim's Unit, right before Olivia's old partner, Elliot, had put in for leave, he'd been _even more_ of a jokester.

On the verge of being outright _mean_. He'd seemed to ease up, though, after Stabler had left. But - he'd worked with him for quite some time, too, I knew. The loss probably sombered him up.

As horrible as it sounded, I was appreciative.

" _You_ know what it's like getting a teenager up for school," I threw back, rolling my eyes. "I'm surprised I made it here _at all_. "

"Alright, alright," Harris said, in an attempt to revert our attention back to him. To be frank, none of us particularly _cared_ about listening to him. Our other Captain, Donald Cragen, was out due to a _crappy_ , **underhanded** investigation. And though he was found innocent and lifted of the charges that had been placed against him, he was still deemed _not fit for duty_.

A real crock of crap. But - what could we _do_?

"Olivia, you have the floor."

We all dubiously turned to Benson. Between her and Fin, we respectfully listened to them when they "had the floor", as Harris eloquently put it.

"We're not getting anywhere with Jocelyn Paley," she stated, making my heart sink in my chest. Jocelyn was a high profile case thanks to her novel, _Twenty-Five Acts_ , a pseudo-erotica piece _riddled_ with BDSM.

I had yet to read the _masterpiece_.

Even considering the contents of her book, none of us believed she deserved what had happened to her: a celebrity host, Adam Cain, had attacked her not once, but _twice_. One time of which happened within an elevator _with a security camera_. And the first time, he'd left _several_ harsh marks on her, though at her initial outry denied _anything_ had happened to her.

With all these facts lined in a row, Cain continued to _deny_ that he'd hurt Jocelyn in anyway, saying - as they all did - that she had _consented_ to **brutal** , **rough** sex. _None of us were buying it._

"We need a warrant -" Liv had continued, but Fin chimed in.

"I don't see how we're getting one, considering Delia Wilson had started naming names." He wasn't _wrong_. In regards to the investigation that had framed our Captain and left him on an unexplained leave, one of the suspects had started calling out people - elected and judicial officials, officers, et cetera - who were involved in her messed up human trafficking ring. Which left us kind of high and dry as far as an ADA.

"Actually - there is someone," Captain Harris began, reverting our attention back to him (reluctantly). "Rafael Barba."

"Oh yeah," said Amanda. "He was the one who got those two Johns for raping that prostitute."

"Yeah, I thought he was in Brooklyn," Olivia added, looking skeptical - as we all did when Steve Harris spoke.

"Yeah - he took a lateral to Manhattan. The guy's got big brass -" A pause as he assessed his words again. "- ego."

"Alright," I finally said, a hand on my hip, "So, when do we get to meet him?"

"How about right now?" As Harris collected his jacket and keys. "Benson, Rollins, Jackson - you ladies come with me. Munch, Fin: dig up some more dirt on Cain - but tread lightly."

"And what, do I get to read the masterpiece?" joked Nick Amaro, one of two newer detectives. But his smirk would turn into a deep frown when Harris thrust the book into his face.

"We need someone to learn the ins-and-outs of this thing. No surprises when it comes to trial. And - learn of its origins. Who inspired the book? Maybe we'll get a better idea of our victim." With that, Harris headed toward the elevators, Liv, Amanda and I in tow.

 _Big brass_ _ **ego**_ _, huh?_ I thought to myself, leaning against the cold wall of the elavator as we desecended. _**That's**_ _quite the description._

A/N: I know it's relatively similar to the older one, and slow coming still, but this is a better fit for how I anticipate the story to play out than the old version. Just _stick with me here_ , it'll elevate, _promise._


	2. Chapter 2

Along the way to 1 Hogan Place, I was thinking about my first time meeting the others; in this job, it felt like you were meeting someone new to the team every week.

It was a case regarding a young girl who went by Mac. The girl had, according to her parents, been abducted from the home, the abductor evidently locking the mom in the bathroom. Upon further inspection, the family had dealt with kidnapped children before. I was usually working to Mac, and later on the parents alongside Elliot or Olivia, to find out more about what the parents would do to Mac in order to keep her safe- and just what happened to their other daughter, Ella.

We ended up finding her. She was forced to be a child-turned-adult bride to her abductor. But, when we brought Ella to her parents, Olivia later pointed out that Mackenzie didn't seem as ... happy about the news.

She was crying in the background. I wonder what happened to her. I hope they're okay.

Then a year later, both Amanda and Nick came along. Amanda came in to work right away, hadn't even set up her desk before she went to a crime scene. Nick, too, was put straight to work - but both kind of handle those situations differently.

While Amanda was one to listen to those who (technically) had superiority, Nick had his own way to do things - and had this idea that he was _always right_.

Needless to say, we didn't get along.

Now at the Courthouse, Liv and Harris got out first, moving to the backdoors to let Amanda and myself out next. We stalked up the high steps and into the building, myself behind the rest. At first, Elliot, Liv, and Fin tended to flank this way in order to keep me safe- I was the youngest, the smallest.

I hated that.

But being the last also meant I was most observant, and could catch last-minute details that others missed. Even though we were in the safety of the courthouse, literally _surrounded_ by police officers, that didn't stop a criminal if they **really** wanted to get the job done.

I'd been shot at more times than I cared to admit on these stairs; I definitely knew better.

Upon entering the courtroom, they were finishing up a case. Two lawyers were bickering back and forth before one decided he'd been defeated and walked out of the room with his head between his shoulders.

"Captain- is it take your daughters to work day?" as- who I assumed was- Rafael Barba reached out his hand to shake each of ours.

"Barba- I lied and said you know your way around a courtroom." It was my turn to shake his hand when the Captain had said that, and I glanced back to fix a really nasty glare on him, simultaneously pulling my hand away. Before I could say more, he was already turning around to go-

-where ever it was SVU Captains go (other than, as of late, _jail_.)

So we were left to follow after the ADA.

"Does the victim appears credible?"

I spoke up. "She was really shaken up, plus her story was consistent-"

"That's not what I asked." Now leaning against his desk, he repeated, "Does she appear credible?"

I shook my head, glancing between my partners, _clearly_ confused.

"The reason I ask, we had a case where a woman was raped. Attacker had strangled her so bad her _eyes_ popped out of her sockets. He claims she liked it rough, the jury deadlocks." _Oh_. "I want to meet her."

"She's been through a rough time, Counselor-" Amanda began, but of course Barba had to have the last word.

I was starting to like him as much as I liked Nick.

"And if we go forward it's not going to get _any_ easier."

So later on that day, we were right back in the DA's office, Jocelyn sitting before him, _obviously_ frustrated she had to go through her testimony. **AGAIN**.

It was after leaving the DA's office, walking down the familiar courthouse steps, that things took a _very strange_ turn. I didn't live _too far_ from the bus stop that would take me back home, so I offered to just walk that way instead of having them drive the short distance. As I leaned against the bench, pulling out my phone, ready to call Joe and see if I should go ahead and order dinner-

I noticed a car parked across the street from me. Normally, that wouldn't be strange. If I hadn't looked up between my thick lashes, phone still before me, I wouldn't have noticed the fact the person within the car- a male- was staring straight at me.

I just about dropped my phone, head shooting completely upright, but before I could move another muscle the car was turning on its signal and peeling into the street, cutting off a tax and narrowly missed being t-boned.

 _What was that_? It probably wasn't important - it probably was nothing at all- but it still made me _extremely_ wary, and I didn't look or even _touch_ my phone the rest of the way home.

The next few days, my paranoia continued to heightened my senses, making me more jumpy. Surprisingly, other than Amanda, _Nick_ noticed as well, approaching me at my desk and stepping _instantly away_ when I nearly jumped out of my seat.

"Hey- did somethin' happen, or- ?"

"No, no. I- No." I shook my head, _too vigorously_ , making my denial even more evident. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You don't act like-"

Olivia and Harris came in and interrupted us, giving me a breath of reprieve. "Let's get to court. Cain is up."

We took two cars on the way to the courthouse; Munch and Fin stayed at the precinct, Harris rode with Amanda and Oliva, leaving _me_ alone with **him**.

"What's going on?" Nick was looking ahead, but I could _feel_ him gazing at me in his peripheral.

"Focus on driving, Amaro." I kept my own green eyes on my window, watching the grey-on-grey scenery pass by us to the courthouse.

"So that's it? You've been acting more like a manic freak than Munch, and you're just goin' to shrug it off?"

I thought about just ignoring him, letting his words roll over my head and out the window. But- and maybe this really _was_ just manic behavior, I'm no therapist- I kept noticing _that same car_ across from the precinct and _once_ across my house.

It was a black car, common in this city, and it wouldn't seem sketchy, save for that _every time I looked over_ , it drove off.

"I think... " But what if it was just a cop being a cop, and it wasn't that big of a deal? If I brought it up, everyone would get all up in arms, it would turn into this big ol' thing-

Nope; I was already the baby in the squad room, I didn't want unnecessary protection. I was also a cop: I could handle myself.

"I think Sera might be getting bullied at school," I said instead. "I just get lost in thought about it, that's all." I shrugged. "It's girl stuff. I'll take care of it." Finally, I faced him, _grimacing_ , hoping it appeared more like a smile to help simmer down any suspicions.

However, Nick was still staring forward, nodding at my words. "Well, if you need some of us trying to _persuade_ the school to do something about it-"

I chuckled, a genuine noise of amusement, and shook my head at the offer. "If _you_ were a teenage girl, would _you_ want a bunch of cops flocking you?"

"Good point." Now _he_ was smiling; admittedly, he was kind of _nice looking_ when he wasn't trying to be a cocky prick. "Let me know how it works out."

In the courtroom, Barba was laying it on _thick_ with Adam Cain. The things he was questioning him about were _unorthodox_ , to say the least.

"What _excites_ you about sex, Mr. Cain?" See what I mean?

"What excites _anyone_ about sex?" Adam Cain seemed to believe this a _joke_ , and rolled his eyes at the question.

Barba would proceed with questioning like that, and it seemed fine and dandy- until he took his belt off.

"Your honor-" Rita Calhoun would interject, _pleading_ with the judge to stop whatever nonsense Barba had started.

"As an average joe, I am _curious_ about how this whole belt-around-the-neck thing works. I am sure, your honor, the jury is just the same."

"Proceed _cautiously_ , Mr. Barba."

I would lean forward; he wasn't really going to _do_ this, was he? My eyes first fixed on Nick, then Amanda on the other side of me. They seemed in just as much disbelief.

"Show me- show me how you like it, Mr. Cain. Pull it- _Pull it_!"

"Like **this**." Cain would tug on Barba's belt so hard, the ADA's face turned instantly bright red. I lifted my bottom from my seat, ready to leap to the rescue as was my _duty_ as a police officer. But Cain released his hold, and Barba hacked, walking away from the bench to return to his desk.

" _Not a mark_ ," said the ADA, holding up a picture taken the day of her outcry.

It was pretty much over at that point.

We met outside of the courthouse, Jocelyn looking _less_ than victorious over the jury's guilty verdict.

"What do I do now?" she asked, looking between each of us. "My career is over-"

"The thing about America: this country loves a comeback," muttered Barba, pressing a reassuring hand on Jocelyn's shoulder before descending to the media frenzy just a few yards down from us.

We followed suit, feeling _relieved_ , if only a little, that our new ADA has proven himself quite reliable. As always, I was very last in line- and just like always, I was scanning the area for details that the others _couldn't_ be seeing, not with all the cameras shoved in their face.

So, as before, I saw that black town car, that male staring right at. But he didn't peel away like before, but seemed to shift gears to park in park, pull his keys out, and open his door.

My heart leapt to my throat. Every ounce of police training went out the window- I would have reacted better, if not for the fact that at this point I held some type of familiarity toward this man, and was _curious_ as well as _frightened_ as to why he kept his eye on me this whole time.

I glanced down at the others; they were still swamped by press. They wouldn't know if I slipped out of my position for a minute. And other than my stalker, there was no imminent threat. I walked down the steps, around the media, and toward the car. I slipped a hand over my piece, the other reaching for my phone. If he decided to run off, I could get a quick picture of the license plate.

If not, well- back to being a paranoid maniac.

The man watched me approaching, watched me reaching on either side of me. He retreated to his car again, and amidst the already-crowded streets of the Big Apple, I couldn't get to him before he closed the door. I managed to land a punch on a back door as he would, as usual, _peel out of there_. However, my phone in my hand, I'd lift the device and take a quick snapshot of the plate.

The next thing I knew, there was screaming and peeling, then I was tumbling onto the side of the street opposite the courthouse. I had pressed against the concrete with the hand not holding my phone, and I felt a _crack_ as I rolled onto my back. Pain seered up my arm, and I could literally see stars for a moment before being pulled onto my feet.

"Are you crazy?" It was Nick; I didn't register at first because of the random spots covering my vision.

"Yes- _no_. I'm not crazy. I'm **fine**." I stepped away from him, pocketing my phone while lifting my opposing hand to my face, noticing the redness and obvious swelling. " _Damn_."

"What were you doing in the middle of the road?" He was just as breathless as myself, looking both worried as well as (rightfully) angry at my carelessness.

So, I did the best thing I could in that situation: played stupid. "Sight-seeing."


	3. Chapter 3

I was forced to spend at least one day away from work; like I really could afford that, but I didn't have a choice when I needed my wrist assessed, leaving me completely useless. But, according to the doctor's orders, my hand was going to be useless anyway: my wrist was sprained really badly, and I had to wear a brace until it regained strength.

Desk duty for me.

The next day, I returned to work- and dropped my bag and jacket the minute a very familiar face came out of the office. I bounded across the office and stopped right before my captain, unable to contain my _beaming_ smile.

"I heard you had a little _accident_ the other day."

"Yeah- _kind of_." Deep, **deep** down, I knew that I needed to apologize to Nick for putting him into danger. However... pride is a _hell_ of a sin. "I'm fine, though. I was cleared for work."

"You were cleared for _desk duty_ , Jackson." He would reach up and pat the top of my head- as most people around her liked to do; whether that had to do with the fact I was the shortest or youngest, I wasn't sure- before directing me back to my desk.

"And," he said, as he kneeled behind me as I sat in my chair, "I'll let you know what I told the rest of the squad: we're going to be coloring _inside the lines_ for a little while. Lay low."

I nodded back at Captain Cragan, giving him a subtle smile.

The rest of the squad was working on a sex trafficking ring, a small one- that evidently led straight into a joint-terrorism case. I found that very hard to believe, as did the others, but evidently they went to another precinct, where they were briefed on the case, and discovered the allegations could be true.

My job was to background check every pimp, John, whoever that went into the home. But I also did a little _more_ digging and tried to find out something about the other girls that lived in that house.

As well as trying to run the plates of the _crappy freaking picture_ I took of that creep-o stalker of mine. Since that afternoon, I had not seen _one wink_ of that jackass. I should have felt relieved; instead, it ground against my nerves.

"Working late, CJ?" joked Amanda, leaning over my shoulder. "What's that?"

The picture was still up; really _done goofed_ on that one. "Ah- I was running another plate. I thought another towncar could have been involved. Was a flop." As I proceeded to close the picture. "What are _you_ doing here so late?"

"Trying to figure out how a bunch of women forced into prostitution could correlate to terrorism." She stood up straight, hands in back pockets- her signature, I'd noticed. "SVU: it really is an adventure everday."

"Even behind the desk."

I stood up then, grabbing my belongings and walking with Amanda to the elevator. Once downstairs, I headed toward the bus stop, someone grabbing me from behind-

I turned on my heel, reaching with my good hand for my gun. It was just Amanda, holding her hands in the air in surrender. She was lucky I had taken a second to assess the situation, and that I hadn't pistol-whipped her straight in the face.

"I was just going to offer you a ride, detective."

"Yeah, _yeah_ , sorry." I replaced my gun on my hip, following after my fellow detective and hopping into her car. Just as I finished buckling myself in, I noticed a very familiar town car without front license plates parked just a few car-lengths away.

 _NO_. I was afraid that, with Amanda here, she could be in a lot of danger. Like he would believe I was, or already had, told her about our little _get-togethers_. I didn't want to place her in any danger of _my_ issues.

"A-Actually, I forgot something in the precinct. Go ahead home, Amanda." I unstrapped myself, collecting my things and bustling out of her car. I heard her call out to me, but I promptly ignored her. I really didn't want to risk anymore danger for anyone, if I could readily help it.

Inside, I leaned against the wall just next to the first floor door. Stupidly, amidst my panic, it would appear I had _forgotten to lock it_ , and someone would enter a few moments later.

"Amanda, really, go home-"

"She did." The voice was deep, pulling me from my short reverie to lift my eyes to meet the other's. It was _him_ , that crazy stalker that had been tormenting me for over a month.

"What-" I thought I was going to throw up. I felt unsteady on my feet, and unsure what to do next. It was like every cop-instinct in my being had ghosted out the door beside me, the door I should have been _bolting_ for. "What do you want?"

"Just to let you know something." He lunged toward me, pressing the front of his body against mine, causing me to drop my coat and bag to the floor at my feet and my back to slam on the wall. "That I'm not the only one watching you. And that your past is a lot closer than you think." He brushed a loose red hair from my pale face, and I could _feel_ my lip quivering.

Something deep down inside me knew just _what_ he was referring to. Due to my own confusion and fear, none of those intuitions came to the surface. I just shook my head, keeping my round green eyes focused on him.

With a nasty, crooked smile, he pushed away from me and walked out of the door. I didn't turn around, didn't move a _muscle_ , until my adrenaline ran down. Only then, when my legs didn't feel like jello, did I make a move to the bus stop.

If Joe hadn't been placed momentarily overseas for two weeks for some type of mission- military, I never understood any of it- I would have just called him for a ride. _Oh well, I'll live_. But the whole ride back home, my bag hugged to my chest, I was watching every town car that we drove past, wondering if he was still following me.

Or if, from now on, it would be someone else.

A/N: this one was tremendously shorter, but now the ball is rolling. Thanks for the added support.


End file.
